I had secretly vowed never to return to Uganda. But after volunteering for a school building project in Kenya, an extraordinary twist of ‘fate’ not only led me straight back to Uganda, but opened up opportunities for a whole new chapter of ministry in the beautiful ‘Pearl of Africa’.

Central Western Kenya,
Near Nyahururu

I was hoping that things would go very well. We had planned ahead, sent the plans and instructions from Australia. I even had soil tests done on the building site and all was looking good. Except nothing… and I mean nothing… went according to plan. (Ahh… Africa!)

With all of the preliminary work done in advance we should have been able to get the new school’s rammed earth walls up within the three weeks and leave the other volunteers to finish the roof structure. But our plans hit an immediate snag when I got to the site and found that the soil had virtually no clay content at all — despite what had been reported to the contrary. Just a few kilometres away I was able to see the characteristic rich red loamy soil that it so typical throughout much of East Africa. But right here, on this building site, it was another story altogether. Just dark humus soil and rocks. Lots of rocks. How could they get the soil tests so wrong? That didn’t really matter anymore, but I was deflated. I had planned the trip, taken time off work, donated my time, all apparently for nothing.

I had been called in as an ‘expert adviser’ because I had built a wonderful two-story rammed earth house in Belgrave, in the Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne (Australia). The Kenyan project manager had been to my house and had become excited about the prospect of alternative building in Africa. Not only would it produce a strong, enduring and cost-effective structure, but it would also give some of the local lads some building experience and introduce the local community to a wonderful simple technology. It seemed like a very good idea.

Rammed earth building had been done for centuries further north in Africa. In fact there are some structures still in use today that are purported to be up to four thousand years old. Admittedly it is much drier further north and little danger of erosion due to heavy rain, but with the correct site preparation, roofing, eaves and termite protection, such buildings are possible everywhere. All you need is sandy gravel with about 15 to 30 per cent stable clay, some form-work, some shovels, some cement, some compacting tools and lots of willing workers.

 In the end we were able to work out a solution. We gathered up all of the stones into heaps where we were working, then we used to formwork to build formed stone walls. It was the only solution and it began to work well, albeit at the expense of the extra sand and cement that was needed. After two weeks we were behind schedule but making progress, and I began to feel that my input was no longer critical. But I had not just come to Africa to work on this building… as with previous trips, I had come to Africa prepared to share the gospel and teach if the opportunity presented itself. As the weekend approached I was told there would be an opportunity for me to speak at a local church and as evening approached I went off to my room to seek the Lord.

My room (if you could call it that) was a small dark tool shed. My bed was some iron sheets laid on top of bags of cement, over which a sheet of foam rubber was placed for a mattress. On this was stretched my sleeping bag and my pillow was a pillow case stuffed with some of my clothes. In one corner of my room was the all of the picks and shovels… in the opposite corner was a large pile of onions and potatoes. (Ahh… Africa!)

 Little did I know at the time that a few weeks later another strange twist of providence would find me staying in a five-star hotel in North Carolina that is usually frequented by presidents & celebrities — and dining at the Biltmore Estate (the mansion made famous by the movie, Richie Rich). That’s yet another story… my digression serves only to illustrate that God does have a sense of humour!

Regardless of my iron sheet bed and my potato/onion/tool-shed lodgings, I slept well, and a very interesting sleep it was! During the night, amidst all of my thoughts about what I should present to the church the next day, I had an educational dream.

I say educational because in my dream all of my thoughts and research into church history came together and succinctly distilled down into a series of simple images that I could use as a teaching tool. When I awoke I immediately saw how these images had the potential to become a poster to aid a teaching series on the essence of the New Covenant — particularly in the context of understanding the progressive history of the Church and the state of the Church today.  (I apologise how dry this sounds as I write it here, but please trust me when I say that it is very relevant and particularly important to the Church in Africa – see poster image below).

However, the dawn of the new day met me with yet another surprise. The project director, Geoffrey, met me as I came out of the shed in the morning and informed me that he would not be attending church with me, but instead was about to go to catch a bus to take him to Kampala, the capital city of the neighbouring country of Uganda. And he wasn’t planning to return for several days. What Geoffrey failed to realise at the time was that his departure had some fairly serious implications for me. Firstly, it meant that I would be the only supervisor for a group of workers who could not speak English (nor did I speak Swahili!). Furthermore, one glance in the direction of the project vehicle revealed that it had three flat tyres and only one spare. So to summarise: I could not work, I could not go anywhere and, I could not communicate with anyone. My response? “Geoffrey… actually I think I’ll be coming with you!” 

Thirty minutes later we were at the bus stop catching a bus and I was outa there!  And to be completely honest, I was glad to be leaving Kenya behind me.   

An overnight stop near the Kenya/Uganda border meant that we didn’t arrive in Kampala until the next afternoon, at which time I immediately began to seek out my former Ugandan colleagues. I was quite familiar with Kampala by this time, having travelled there many times in my role with Friends of Uganda Worldwide, a project that I had co-founded in 1996 with some Ugandan nationals. So it was quite a natural thing for me to seek out my colleagues even though my arrival was quite unexpected (even for me) and definitely unannounced. When I arrived at Timothy’s house in Wandagere I was met with the usual hospitable greeting, although I was surprised to find a contingent of men there who had come down from the northern Ugandan city of Lira. They were all very serious, fasting and in prayer, kneeling on the floor around Timothy’s lounge room. As I walked in none of them expressed any surprise, but stood and greeted me, still looking all very serious. Then they informed me, “We’ve been expecting you brother. What do you have to share with us?”

Then they informed me, “We’ve been expecting you brother. What do you have to share with us?”

 After I had recovered from my initial reaction of disbelief, they sat and told me the story of how they had come to be in Kampala.

As it happened, they had been praying back in Lira when a prophetess — an elderly respected woman in the church — had come to them to tell them that the Lord had spoken to her. They were instructed to go and catch a bus to Kampala and then to wait at Timothy’s house until a man of God arrived with a message to share with them.  Even though they had no money to get a bus to Kampala, they prayed and somehow the Lord had provided the money. Then they travelled to Timothy’s house, just as they had been instructed.

How they knew that I was the messenger they were sent to meet I do not know, but when they asked me, “What has God given you to share with us?” I immediately thought of my dream that I’d had two nights before and asked, “Do you have any paper?”

A young boy had been sent off to fetch some butcher’s paper and when he returned we attached the large sheets to the wall. I then began to draw each of the images that the Lord had given me in the dream, explaining and teaching the underlying principles that each of those images represented, providing the Bible references. Each of the men sat and weighed carefully all that I had to share and occasionally nodded in agreement.

Just to provide a bit of additional background information, these brothers were not from what you or I might call a conventional or normal church at all. They were, in fact, an indigenous fellowship that had began without any help or assistance from western missionaries. In fact, they were very cautious of missionaries and westerners in general, because from what they knew about the western Church, with all of its hierarchy, tradition, legalism and materialism. This didn’t fit with their understanding of what the Bible taught at all. In fact, their fellowships had no professional pastor, no church buildings, no formal membership — and very little of the religious baggage that we in the West have come to accept as ‘normal’. Instead, they would meet in each other’s homes, share their resources, pray for each other and help those in need. The elders of the community would also teach and exercise pastoral oversight as it was needed. In fact, they operated pretty much like the 1st Century Church.

After I had spoken to them, one of them came to me with a confession. He said, “Brother, I have to ask your forgiveness. When I saw that you were a white man I didn’t want to hear what you had to say. We’ve heard about Christians in the west and how they are always concerned about money and how they come to introduce their unbiblical way to Africa. Our people are always being led astray by that, so when I saw you were white I didn’t want to listen to you. But now that I have heard what you have shared, I am very much at peace and I am glad that God sent you to us.”

Some of the other men expressed similar sentiments and made it clear that I was welcome to come and minister among them anytime.

And go to them I did — several times on later trips. I participated in late-night worship times around the camp fire and I saw miracles of healing among them as they prayed for God’s intervention in the name of Jesus.

Are you looking for truth, meaning and purpose in your life? Well, you don’t have to become a missionary to Africa to find it. Let me encourage you to get hold of a Bible and take a close look at the life and teachings of Jesus. God is waiting and inviting you to get to know Him and follow Him. Just humble yourself, confess your sins and failures to the Lord and ask Him to come into your life and be your Lord and Saviour. I recommend that you start reading the Gospel of John first. God bless you as you begin your spiritual journey!